Thursday, March 12, 2009

Another great post by Daphne Gray-Grant

PW #162 - Moving lessons for writers

I opened the freezer door and a sea of green goo puddled towards me. What on earth was this stuff?

Turns out it wasn't pond sludge or paint, it was my kids' favourite ice cream -- mint chocolate chip. And it had oozed down to the bottom of the freezer because it had melted. This was a result of the freezer's death, right alongside its guilty partner, the dead fridge nestled below.

Under normal circumstances, I'd have uttered a few curse words and called a repair person. But our situation was anything but normal. We'd just moved into a rental house -- a move made necessary by plans to renovate our own home. And since we didn't actually own the freezer/fridge, I couldn't do anything except call the landlord.

Day three of our move was not shaping up to be a great one.

What's more, the dead fridge was not our only problem. The rental house was too cold -- you practically needed long underwear to survive the family room. The kitchen was too small -- more suited to a family of two who ate out a lot rather than our family of five who mostly eats in. And the movers (who moved only furniture -- we heroically and cheaply did most of the boxes ourselves) had managed to take a chunk out of my pine armoire.

In short, everything sucked.

Do you ever feel that way when you're writing? You stare at the computer monitor, not knowing what to say. Every sentence you write is tedious and dull. You overuse the verb "to be." You go crazy with audacious adjectives and you use adverbs disadvantageously. (Aside: that last sentence was a joke.)

Or perhaps, worse, you don't write at all and you do other things but you don't do them well or with any particular joy because you feel guilty . . . for not writing.

In other words, your writing life sucks. So what's a person to do? Give up? Sorry, no!

We all need to recognize that not every writing day is going to be a winner. After all, athletes are familiar with "poor performance" days, and recognize that this doesn't, by definition, make them poor athletes. Most chefs have baked cakes that have fallen flat or produced main courses that were less than stellar -- but that doesn't make them any less cooking savvy. Movers have terrible moving days. And so it is with writers. Some days are always going to be better than others. Don't let your inexperience or some bad luck define you.

You are a writer because you are a person who chooses to put words on paper. If you judge yourself too harshly that judgment will simply make the wonderful, creative part of your brain -- the part that writes -- want to hide.

Remember: things go wrong; it happens all the time. But in the end, life usually sorts itself out. With writing, we all improve with practice and a measure of calm.

As for my move, we settled in fairly quickly. I told my landlords we hadn't managed to sell the much-loved fridge in our own house, so they could take it for the cost of moving it to us. We bought an inexpensive space heater for the family room. We decided to eat only in the dining room and turned our kitchen table into a work surface. And I've concluded my armoire looks more antique with a few dings and scrapes.

Stuff happens. Get over it. Keep writing.

A former daily newspaper editor, Daphne Gray-Grant is a writing and editing coach and the author of the popular book8½ Steps to Writing Faster, Better.She offers a brief and free weekly newsletter on her website. Subscribe by going to thePublication Coach.

Years ago, in my corporate life, we took a course in brainstorming. I think one of the methods they discussed was called "springboarding" and the rules were thus: no one could dis another person's idea, because sometimes out of a "bad" idea would spring a new one.

Writing is like that too. If we censor ourselves too harshly, we inhibit our creativity. And sometimes, out of the shite, arises something grand.

About Me

A Novel Woman, AKA Pamela Patchet, was unwittingly born and raised in Toronto instead of Paris. She worked her way from A&W carhop to political advisor to advertising executive where, on any given day, she was called upon to soothe disgruntled clients, cajole temperamental artists, juggle multi-million dollar budgets or locate trained penguins for television commercials. She married a handsome dentist for love and a lifetime of free dental care, raised three kids, and established a freelance writing career, not unlike her earlier jobs, minus the penguins.